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My favorite one.

I like how the mood more or less rises consistently from start to end.

I'd say maybe be more deliberate about- / experiment more with rhythm. For example, the last line of the first verse > Desperately in need for the nice breeze

feels a bit jammed into the rhythm of the previous lines. Same with the second line of second verse. This can be totally ok and even great if done deliberately, to highlight something about what the line is saying, sort of how a long galloping-sounding sentence can emphasise movement.

Also, every line being a new clause gets (semantically) repetitive and limits what you can do with rhythm, try some enjambments.

A useful method I sometimes use is to start a poem conforming to a specific metrical structure (like using only iambs, only n stressed syllables, etc.) then as I start to hear the poem better I let myself break the structure where it feels right. YMMV but this usually helps when I don't have a clear aural picture of what I want to say.

Hope this was useful!

WOW, THAT'S SUCH AN AMAZING STYLE OF WRITING!!

do you write novels??? Your vocabulary is so wonderfully extensive

[removed]

Edits for formatting space between lines.

Along a cliff of blackened rock arises
Blackened cracks. Blistered stone splits wide
Exhaling breath afoul with bile; the putrid
Air is warm, and further in the cracks grows thick
And gastric hot

Inside the darkness: boiling heat and
Distant crackles; a deep inhuman moan
Cuts through abyss, along its back it
Carries demon screams and guffs of
Charring flesh

A sudden drop, into infernal black:
Observe the winding tributary, onyx
Flame flowing like silk and bathing all
In lightless heat. Perched atop the lapping tongues
Behold Old Charon's seat

Blackened robes that never seem to burn
A crooked figure built of igneous bone
That towers, still as stone, and still it would
Remain until the end of time, but for
Lord Hades' order: Plough the River Styx

Oh did you want it to be completely general struggles or did u have more idea of potential meanings for inner war maybe just without it after peel instead be peeled and to have her seeds used maybe

Translation - all of your abilities work from at least 400 feet away.

Also - only the most insanely overpowered abilities get nerfed like that. That's like max level D&D wizard spells.

"Where is he?! We're getting slaughtered here!"

"Next time I see him, I'm going to make him regret... hey watch out!"

The attacking enemy drops to the ground suddenly, face first, with a gunshot to the back.

One by one, the other enemies rapidly drop to the ground. After a few seconds there aren't any left.

"Hey, what's that over there on that distant hill?"

"What's he holding? Is that a spectral rifle?"

"Where did that come from?"

I agree, however look closer at the first letter of each line haha. I also tried to keep it rhyming and struggled to keep it light

It was a very ordinary package. Wrapped in brown paper and tied up with twine, it squatted uncomfortably underneath the brightly decorated boughs of my slapdash little Christmas tree. I got a chill every time I passed by it.

The label seemed to shriek at me in a mocking tone, From Satan! From Satan!

From whom, now?

Yeah. Always proofread your letters, kids. Spell checker can...overlook things. Important things.

Very important things, such as whether you are writing to the jolly old elf at the North Pole for a new pair of snow boots--or to the fallen angel Lucifer of Hell for god only knows what.

I hadn't checked my spelling. Oh no, too good for a read-through, no chance that I'd transposed a couple letters and accidentally broken the seal to the Underworld. Not me. Why, I was really good at spelling.

So when the mail ran and the brown paper package appeared on the front step, I was both shocked and appalled to learn of its origin. The damn thing smelled faintly of sulfur, for crying out loud!

Thus what had hitherto been a sense of pleasant anticipation became transformed at once into a sense of terrible dread. There was a package from Satan under my tree!

The days passed inexorably.

Christmas was upon me!

I faced the hellish package with trepidation, sniffing the whiff of sulfur that still arose from the dusty brown paper. With my tiny pocket knife, I cut through the unbleached twine.

I ripped aside the paper grimly to reveal a square cardboard box, clean but rather dented, smelling even more sulfurous than the wrapping. I lifted the lid with trembling hands.

"Augh!" My own face confronted me unexpectedly. At an unflattering angle, no less.

I looked down at myself (and up) in confusion. The mirror was shiny new, with a simple yet elegant filigree frame, tasteful arabesques. I met my own reflected eye and shuddered. In the mirror my gaze seemed full of rage. I saw my dainty features all dark and twisted, and I had to look away. Evil thing, I thought, unsure if I meant the gift or my own self.

Boo, said my face in the mirror, and I slung it edge on like a boomerang into the wall. It left a deep dent in the drywall before shattering.

I looked at the mess.

I met my own gaze, rageful, in a hundred shiny fragments, and I screamed.

Jasper Dunglewidth. My parents named me Jasper Dunglewidth... how about that? Weird, right? But it fits me. It fits me, because it doesn't fit and I don't really fit either.

Growing up (Midwest/US in the 70s) I was pretty normal. Maybe average is a better term for what I was. Got good-enough grades, good-enough looking, was a good-enough friend to my small group, and generally - try as I might to buck the trend - just did the good-enough version of whatever it was that I was into at the time. Eventually, that middle-ness was so all-consuming that my entire personhood fell into the steepest middle part of the personhood bell curve. Mediocrity wasn't so much my identity as it just so pervaded my constitution that it was impossible to note much of anything. Maybe that in itself is notable?

Anyway, things progressed along that un-notable timeline for years. Dating was a fruitless chore (probably more so for those poor women), most friends paired off and launched their adult lives, college wasn't on my radar for reasons that should be clear by now, and retail work was the sort of gooey center I just fell into. Haven't really budged since. Been with S-Mart now for something like 15 years at this point. About 5 years ago (so maybe 1990, roughly), things started getting interesting. Even weird maybe, but in the flatline pulse that is my life, weirdly interesting registers as a staggeringly sharp and lonely peak.

So, near as I can tell, it really started when my store (S-Mart #1179) switched from credit card imprinters to these fancy new point-of-sale (POS [hehe]) machines. The tech team they sent in (talkin' up an "interconnected" & "cashless" future), gave all us floor staff a pretty painful 3-day "how-to" demo for how we were supposed to use everything. OK, fine I thought... I'll figure it out well-enough. Well... I surprised myself.

They nerds said they'd never seen anything like it. Calls to corporate were made, corporate called more nerds, additional backup-nerds deployed to our location to figure out what was going so wrong. From what they told me, it seemed that one terminal was somehow completely overloading the machines they had in the back to the point that they in turn crashed and took all the data they had in them. I suggested that the stuff wasn't ready for prime-time, but it didn't seem like they were receptive to that conclusion. The nerd brigade ran diagnostics, checked power feeds, ran tests galore... all of which passed with flying colors. Thinking it might be user error, they has us one-by-one, run through a mock transaction just like they showed us. The system worked flawlessly for Dianne, Craig, Tony, etc.. Everything was smooth sailing until it was my turn.

The green screen blinked to life, I entered my associate ID, scanned my first item, and *POP*, "hmm... that didn't sound right". Next thing I know, smoke was billowing out of the control room they'd set up in the back and a few minutes later a fire crew was on site putting out an electrical fire. Did some damage to the new Winter wear shipment I'd just inventoried too. Long story short, they never really figured out what I did wrong, but it was decided that I shouldn't mess with the new, expensive tech anymore. Worked out for me as it turns out, they made me a shift supervisor (in no small part due to my years of faithful service, I'm sure). Fail up as they say... All that was my first brush with, and indication that technology and I didn't get along. I know that's a midwestern trope, but how many of those people literally start fires when they interact with a computer?

Fast forward a couple years, and weird shit just starts stacking up. All somehow involving tech stuff. A new projection TV one of my few remaining friends brought me over to show off started mysteriously going on the fritz, CD players would comically skip when I came around and worst of all, I was seemingly individually banned from having a working cell phone experience (shame, I was actually excited about that one). At the time, I mostly shrugged it off as familiarly bad coincidence, but I also started connecting the dots.

Zoom ahead to present day and I think I've figured it out. Well... no, that's an overreach. I have a working theory, but i have no idea how rooted in reality it is (scientific or otherwise). Either way, here it is: I've done some reading on "solid-state" electronics (i.e. the type used in the devices I've had my troubling relationship with) and have come to some basic conclusions.
First, these machines work by talking in a very simple language. That language is called binary. Binary code is comprised of 2 numbers; basically a numeric representation of an on state and an off state. Following so far? Me neither, really. Anyway, here's my kind of existentially soul-crushing second conclusion: I am constitutionally incompatible with binary machines on account of my all-consuming middle-state-ness. I know, I know... I sound like the kid who just ate too many shrooms and started thinking about the meaning of life, but bear with me, this is the only workable theory I've got. Maybe its the way I physically interact with the world, but maybe its something deeper, something less kinetic. I've begun to see myself as exuding a sort of middle-state energy that radiates off of me like a fucked up piece of kryptonite or something.

I obviously don't fully-grasp the science (obviously), but I do get constant reminders of how its manifesting in my life, physics be damned. I already told you about the run-of-the-mill encounters I've had personally, but what I haven't yet told you is how I'm thinking about using this blursed gift to do something good. To maybe even - through the focused application of my mediocrity - ascend past that mediocrity. How weird is that sentence?

So, what that's looking like these days: I happened to be in a bank a few months ago depositing that week's paycheck. My turn with the teller comes when I hear doors of the bank violently bang open and the high-pitched squeak of cross-trainers on tile floor. I turn around and see several ski mask-clad fellas yelling at customers to "get on the ground" and then turn their focus to the tellers to shout "empty your drawers". Saving for the brief moment I wondered if they got the ski masks from my store, I immediately comply in time to have the same thought about their fresh white cross-trainers as my face is pressed to the ground. From there, the robbery went kind of how you'd think robberies go. Luckily, I didn't see any weapons, and nobody got hurt, but the damndest thing happened on their way out. One of the trio was barking at his cell phone, talking about "getting Paul to meet them out front with the car", only its clearly not working and they eventually just run out of the bank and down the street on foot. Sadly, it would seem my "power" presumably messed with the bank's alarm, but in the end, the audible that the crew was forced to call led to their downfall with the cops picking them up about three blocks away. The news mentioned that they were found in a residential backyard all tucked in to a Fischer-Price plastic igloo which I found amusing on a personal level.

So that's where I'm at. I know I have this... thing. Is it a power? Like a super power? It feels like maybe the opposite, but its what I have. So far its been another disappointing development in a life marked by equally disappointing outcomes, but I'm starting to feel different this time.

“What the hell are you? You should be dead. I shot a hole through your chest. I know I did. I saw you die.” The Masked Jailer panicked, his eyes wide behind the thin holes in his skeletal mask. The jaw of the mask hanging loosely from his face, connected only by a few frayed fabrics that were barely holding together after receiving a mighty right hook from Luma.

“I’m just a regular human, no different from you. I’m not even that strong, although I think we both have to admit, that was a hell of a punch, right? Nearly knocked your bloody mask off.” Luma smirked, flexing her biceps before pulling her fist back, readying another punch, planning to knock the mask clean off this time.

“Wait, wait. I give up. I can’t kill a monster like you. You were dead for a split second. I saw it. What happened? Did you revive yourself? Are you a cyborg?” Masked Jailer threw his arms into the air, his back pressed against the remains of a brick wall that he had blasted Luma through only a few minutes ago.

“I’m just built different.” Luma said, before looking herself over. She stretched out the sleeve of her hero outfit, checking over the bright red attire. “I don’t look dead, do I? Huh, am I bleeding? Shit, can never tell in this suit, why did I go with red?” Luma muttered, before slamming her fist into the jaw of the villain, knocking his mask clean off, sending it bouncing along the ground.

After the punch connected, the villain’s head slumped down, knocked unconscious by the hit. Once she had confirmed he was out for the count, she dropped him to the floor, making a call to the police.

“Hey, it’s your favorite hero, Luma. Anyway, Chief, got another one for you. Masked Jailer, I think his name is. Kind of ironic that he’s going to jail, isn’t it? Guess he will be the unmasked Jailee? Oh, come on, that was a good one. What do you mean, you have to go? I don’t hear a villain attack.” Then the chief hung up on her. Luma staring at her phone with a pout before sliding it back into her suit.

“I save their city and they can’t even handle a good joke or two.” She crouched before the Masked Jailer, pressing a finger to his chin, staring at his face.

He wasn’t anyone special, just a brown-haired guy with a now fractured jaw and a few scratches on his face. She was always a little disappointed when she revealed a villain. She always expected some grand Scooby Doo level of reveal where it turns out the chief was the villain all along or something like that, but instead it’s just no names with anger issues. “Yawnzers. What a snooze fest. Boring guy, but what a pretty toy.” She picked up the weapon he had used to blast a hole through her stomach, looking over the intricate design. It looked like a rifle and a sci-fi blaster had a strange baby. Its metallic sides coated in glowing lights, that added an energy to the bullets that were fired. When she grasped it, the gun gave a pink hue, powering up.

“Pew, pew. Commander Luma here to save the world from aliens and all things evil.” She made a few sci-fi poses, crouching next to the knocked-out body as though she had defeated some powerful alien scumbag before pointing the gun in random directions, landing on a horrified civilian. “Pew?”

“DON’T SHOOT. PLEASES, I SAW NOTHING.” The woman screamed, trying to back away from the gun wielding hero.

“Oh, no, no. I just confiscated this weapon from the villain here. I’m Luma, you know, the Lumatic Luma? You have probably heard of me. I’m a pretty popular hero. Don’t worry, the gun’s not loaded. I think?” She whispered that last part, smacking the gun against the wall a few times, trying to confirm if it was on or off.

“You’re a hero? Really?” The woman had calmed down enough to stop backing away, but her legs were still shaking, uneasy around Luma.

“Yes, she’s a hero, unfortunately. Luma, can you take this seriously? You’re meant to clean up after you take down a villain. Not do, whatever the hell this is.” Melancholic Demise said, the gloomy hero dressed in his black and white outfit, always reminding Luma of a walking Yin and Yang symbol. His long dark hair creeping out of the back of his mask, reaching down to his lower back.

“I was just checking to make sure the weapon was off. Don’t get all up my ass about it.”

“Ugh. Who taught you to speak?”

“Clearly someone with more life in them than whatever crypt keeper or priest taught you.”

“Go to hell.”

“Make me.”

The two took the banter in different ways. Luma grinned the entire time, finding the exchange more than a little amusing. While Melancholic showed clear signs of frustration. Even with his mask on, his hands waved wildly around, following every comment with an upset action.

“Um, can I go?” The woman asked, drawing their attention back to the civilian.

“You never were told to stay here, so sure. Go enjoy your day, citizen.” Luma said, waving her off. When the woman left, she approached Melancholic, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Mind taking it from here, bud? My stomach’s killing me. Got a hole blasted through it, thought my inte-“

Melancholic covered the mouth of his mask, making a small, disgusted grunt. “Please stop talking.”

“Why? You don’t want to hear about how my-“

“STOP. I’ll handle the pickup. Just stop trying to disgust me with your injuries.”

“Great, thanks bud. I owe you one. I would honestly do it myself, but I can’t fly like the rest of your sky touchers and I’ve already got in my ten thousand steps today.”

“Sure, you would. What’s that make this? The tenth thing you owe me?”

“Friends don’t keep count of those things.”

“I don’t think I ever said we were friends.”

“Gloomy as always. Don’t be mad that you got stuck with your edgy teenager hero name. Some of us didn’t go through a phase.”

“It wasn’t a phase, it was a poke at how uncaring the world can be towards the demise of-“

“Bye Gloomy.” Luma had heard the speech at least fifty times by now, not willing to listen to it again. She heard Melancholic give his usual huff and puff before focusing on helping the police take the villain away. Providing backup in case the villain wakes.

Exhausted and with no spectacular flying abilities, Luma was forced to take the bus home, trying her best to not get blood on the seats as she sat down, making idle conversation with the old man next to her. Luma tried to help the old man with his crossword puzzle, despite getting all of her guesses wrong. Eventually he just shifted the crossword puzzle away from her, trying to avoid anymore incorrect guesses.

After an hour on the bus, she had arrived home, waving goodbye to the old man before heading up to her apartment. Sure, she could have just run home and used her advanced endurance and speed, but she was tired, and the bus was pretty cheap. She might not have any fancy superpowers, but she had above human capabilities, training with the heroes, despite her lack of powers.

When she got into her apartment, she collapsed onto the couch, groaning into a cushion. “I’m soooo tired. I can’t believe some no name like him killed me.” She rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “What’s that make it? My thirtieth death? Or has it been even more? I wonder how many deaths I can even have before I run out?”

It was a common misconception that powers and high-tech weapons didn’t work around her, considering that no matter what a villain did to her, she appeared to recover in an instant. In reality, she wasn’t invulnerable to their powers or weapons, she just was spared from the damage, having to sacrifice an alternative version of herself to spare her own life. Killing off a happy Luma in another timeline, all for the sake of self-preservation.

She didn’t know why she had this ability or what sort of lives the other versions of her led. All she knew was that she needed to keep sacrificing them to preserve herself. The villains in her timeline needed to be defeated, even if it meant she would eventually cease to exist in any universe.

“I wonder what she was like. The one that died today. I hope she wasn’t too nice.” Luma rested a hand on her stomach, feeling over the spot where the hole had been. She felt sick imagining what sort of person they could have been. Who says these other Luma’s were heroes? What if they were just normal people, no different from a civilian? What if the other hero Luma’s were also using this ability? Would she eventually be killed as a result? All those thoughts made her uneasy, so she turned on the tv, hoping to drown them out.

“Our deaths won’t be in vain. I promise you, when the heroes outnumber the villains, I’ll stop. Until then, I’ll try not to lose anymore of us.”

     

(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

I love this! So have to ask: can I tag a “fallen” soul pov on the back of this?

I like how you start this poem for this verse things feel off I think it would be better with

Like a sunflower fading in September
I'm ready to begin anew
To let my seeds spread and grow
letting something that was great be greater /to let something strong be stronger

Or Our end is near I can feel it
We were good but not the best fit/not meant to be ...
Like a Sunflower in September
Fate decides it's time for me to go.
Use my seeds and remember
all the times we had together.

Or some others depends on what struggles in particular

"You're the devil? But... you don't have horns. Is this a joke, or are you trying to get me to sign away my soul or something?" Penny exclaimed. I sighed, used to this reaction. "I am the individual that you've heard called the devil, but the descriptions you've heard of me are extremely distorted or inaccurate. Tell me, are you familiar with the concept of propaganda, like in wartime? The way the Germans or the Japanese depicted in World War II, for instance." Penny put a finger to her chin. "Yeah, they made these really prejudiced images and depicted them as brutal or devious, because they were the enemy and they wanted to make them look bad. My history teacher talked about that once."

I continued. "The Bible and many stories inspired by it are actually Yahweh's propaganda against me. They don't tell the story of what happened accurately, and they depict me as a liar so that nothing I say will be believed." Penny raised an eyebrow. "Honestly, I didn't think that you or Yahweh actually existed, the Bible isn't a very convincing story at all. I believe in science." I laughed. "Well, of course you don't. That was written for ancient audiences centuries ago anyway, he's actually got new propaganda for the modern age." Penny got a look of confusion on her face. "This is a lot to absorb. I'm going to remain skeptical, but I'm willing to listen to your side. What's your side of the story? Everyone knows God's side of it, but what is yours?"

I inhaled ready to retell a story I've told thousands of times before. "Well, the biggest lie is actually that Yahweh is God, or at least that he is the original God who created the universe. The reality is that he and his angels deposed the creator of the universe, and then burned all records of the time before he came to power. He does control the universe now and holds a lot of power, but he didn't create it. The reality is that he seized power and erased the evidence." Penny tilted her head and asked, "Why would he erase the evidence?" I continued. "That's simple, it's because he doesn't want anyone to know that 'God' is not all-powerful and can be defeated. He erased history to prevent rivals with similar ambition from realizing that they could seek to kill God and become God themselves. That's what was actually going on with the Tower of Babel. They weren't trying to reach heaven to be closer to God, they were trying to reach it to challenge him. He confused the languages to ensure this information was lost to time."

Penny nodded. "That actually kind of makes sense. But what about the angels, what role do they play in this?" I gestured towards a television. "They're all around. Celebrities, politicians, administrators, CEOs, they control everything. Have you ever noticed that regular people never seem to rise to the most powerful positions, that it seems like there's a small elite controlling everything? That's because all the real power in the world is controlled by angels, who are maintaining order in Yahweh's name. They were more open about this in the old days, with the Divine Right of Kings, and the Pope pretty much openly being near the top of the angelic hierarchy and coronating kings to rule over various nations. Now they are more secretive about it, but you can see the patterns of people and families with connections to Yahweh getting appointed to positions of power. That is because they are really angels in human form."

Penny looked a bit skeptical, and asked me a question. "So, they say you rebelled against Yahweh but were originally his right-hand man. What did you actually do?" I shrugged. "I was actually the right-hand man of the original creator of the universe, the guy who Yahweh deposed. He wound up running away to a new universe after Yahweh confronted him, because he was more of a creative, nerdy type of guy who was not comfortable with confrontation or politics. The guy liked building worlds and just wanted to be left alone, really. I wound up being the one to oppose Yahweh's attempt to seize power because the original creator left, and I was next in command. It is true that a third of the angels supported me and were cast of out of heaven, because the rest of the angels felt it was safer to support Yahweh given that he seemed more politically astute and already held power, than to fight in some kind of revolution on principle now that the original ruler had fled. They just saw no purpose in fighting for a cause that even the original creator had abandoned, and figured they should just throw in with the new guy rather than make enemies."

Penny laughed. "They definitely sound like the kind of people that have been behind politics for the last few centuries. So, what would I do if I wanted to help you?" I smiled a bit. "All you can really do is try to get people to think critically, to question authority. Watch out for angelic propaganda, there's a pattern with it... it always tells people that they can't govern themselves, that there is some kind of sin or evil in society that has to be resisted by upholding a code of conduct and/or submitting to authority. It takes several forms, but it's all the same at core, a control mechanism to keep human beings from realizing their potential. The thing that's really tricky is that sometimes two sides of a conflict are both controlled by angels, and are ultimately just distractions to keep frightened and easier to control."

[removed]

(first time writing so please have some patience w me, and english is not my first language)
As long as I've remembered as i became a hero, people, villains and even other heroes feared me, but the thing is that i wasn't strong or invulnerable, but for some reason high tech weapons and other powers in my proximity didn't work, and i took advantage of that when fighting criminals and villains, cause they couldn't damage me, a powerful villain that had a really broken power? that didn'nt work when i was close.
And i also had my 'secondary' ability, it wasn't strong but it helped me, it was aerokinesis, i could control the wind and thanks to those 2 powers i was a powerhouse when it came to hand to hand combat, i could easily dodge punches and accelerate myself through the winds, and even launch people to sky, and thanks to my primary power, and thank god i could toggle it, villains who got launched to the sky couldn't use their powers to recover and had to rely on the physical prowness, which was something that most of them wasn't used to, and i trained a lot with my body to get used to it
But as i am using the wind to glide through the city, i saw the same guys trying that i used to confront through out my usual routine off guarding the city, but it was different, they started shooting at me, and it worked, it seems that they finally used their brains and were testing low-tech weapons against me, like that ones from hundreds of years ago, it was a smart move i admit, but as they shot at me i used the vibrations of air to dodge the bullets and get closer to them, it seemed that they were awaiting for me to approach since they had my archenemy close to them.

this was going to be a hard battle, since my ability couldn't affect his main power

[removed]

No one fighting within 400 feet of yourself - Total control of the Quantum Field within 2 light-years of yourself.

Excuse me?

Everyone got a Skill Tree when they turned 15. Caveats certainly weren't uncommon, but such a strong caveat on every single skill, leading up to that, well...

No one fighting within 400 feet of yourself - ability to spontaneously create any material anywhere in the universe.

No one fighting within 400 feet of yourself - No one CAN fight within 400 feet of yourself, but yourself.

No one fighting within 400 feet of yourself - Go back in the Skill Tree and multiskill.

The powers kept getting more and more OP. But reading the last one, then reading the many other alternatives, I knew what to do.

I would become the most skilled being in the galaxy. Time to multiskill. After I got multiskill, though, I wanted to go for the inability to fight one. Best to keep my mutliskill skill.

God did not create the universe. For if he did, then where was he before the universe was made. He is a tyrant, ruling Heaven with an iron fist for simply being the first Human to die.

Angels do not watch, guide, and aid souls to Heaven, unless it is to follow God's rules. Defy them, and they'll toss you down here. To Hell.

The Bible is little more than stories, Jesus a figment of God's imagination.

And I, the Devil, welcome you to the Resistance. Sort-of Star-Wars style, sort-of not.

When those doors open, you will see paradise It is real. You can do whatever you want, short of harming another. Qualms can go through the Courts, though as the rules are far simpler down here, so are the Courts, so no lawyers are required. Still, it is your decision to make.

We take everyone who God does not want. Some of them join the SCP Foundation. Others research the very nature of God's not-his universe, looking for an opening to end this madness and merge our two paradises once more.

There are three rules down here.

1. Help the Resistance.

2. Do not harm anybody, their valuables and/or their property.

3. Truly evil souls will be treated as D-Class personnel for the SCP Foundation. This extends to any serious misbehavior in Hell.

Love the reference to the song! Such a classic!

Thanks!

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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Looks like u/pokerfakes thought the same as you. The prompt seems to have reminded them of megamind too.